


Stray Thoughts Between Heartbeats

by tracinginthesand



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve had asthma, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, slight Brooklyn accent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2172663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracinginthesand/pseuds/tracinginthesand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky explains some things about him and his old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray Thoughts Between Heartbeats

This wasn't the life we were supposed to have, me an' him. He was supposed to be safe. I went to keep him safe, my sweet crystal chandelier of a man.

Steve.

When he lungs went, when he got so sick with the asthma, they all said he needed the talking cure, some kind of stay in a home or somethin'. Not for my Stevie. Nothin' wrong with his head. It was his body failing him. I stayed up nights holding him, spun sugar in my arms. I fought like a tiger to keep him out of the hospital. Sarah listened, she was the best dame. When he had bad attacks she didn't lock the door. Just looked up when I came in, gave me a high sign if he were awake so I'd know to get the death look off my ugly mug before he saw me.

So I'd slide into bed with him, what of it? He needed me. He needed me to keep the other guys off him, to keep him company, to rub his skinny chest. Before those doctor freaks got their hands on him down the recruiting office I was the only man who'd seen him naked. He had an attack in the tub one time, I found him there, coughing fit to bust his lungs up. I just slid my arms under him like the bruiser I was and picked him up. He was miserable, hid his face in my neck. I took a look, who wouldn'ta? Like everything else about him, perfect and I wanted my hands all over it.

Tucked him in, slid in next to him, got him to drink something, curled him up and stroked his hair and told him it was okay. He grew out of the coughing right around the time he went to art school. I was so glad, but it hurt, too. It hurt so bad.

That was what growing up meant to me. Fewer and fewer ways Steve needed me. Bastard wouldn't even move in with me when his ma died. Wouldn't let me take care of my better half.

When Ma asked me why I hadn't brought her home another daughter, I told her I should marry Steve, 'cause no one else would put up with me. She slapped me across the face and told me Sarah Rogers mighta stood for that talk, but not in her house, y'hear me, buddy boy? Not my best boy. And then she broke down and threw her arms around me and cried. I just stood there and then I put my arms around her too, rocked her, told her it was okay. She asked me to promise her I wasn't a queer like Art.

What was I gonna tell her? Nothin' like that. I told her just to be quiet, it was just a joke, Stevie's my best friend, don't you have anyone you'd die for? My babies, she tells me. I know, ma. I know. Steve's like that for me. She still looked worried, but I was a grown man and went with girls, what did she need to know? Maybe she knew, some level, the only reason I wasn't living in the west village with my uncle and his "pervert" friends was because of Steve. He kept me in the neighborhood, hanging around like a starving dog looking for scraps. Until I had to go. I had to go because it was the right thing.

I promised myself when I was over there, after the first few times I put a bullet in a man's brain, that when I went home it was gonna be him and me like I wanted. I was gonna go home and throw myself at his feet and beg him. Beg him to move to the village with me, to be an artist like he wanted, to sell his art and I'd model for him and find something to do, but just let me crawl into your bed and watch you smile when you see me and we'll never have to look away, please god, Stevie, I'll take such good care of you.

So that's why I went. Why I got so goddamn mad at him when he turned up full of super soldier serum, pumped up and a greek god right out'a everyone's wet dreams. Just one more way he found to stop needin' me.

See, I always knew I was one of those rabid dogs you put down in the street instead'a lettin' 'em slink around. I'd put a guy in the hospital as soon as look at him, just the way I'm wired. That's why they picked me for a sniper. You gotta be a special kind of evil to quietly kill people. To watch it happen, to let your air go. To shoot between the heartbeats. They said I took to it faster'n anyone. Chumps. I did all my living between heartbeats, waiting for Steve to breathe in my arms. Waiting for him to fall asleep so I could kiss him. So soft, stroke his face, his hair, call him my man, blushing when I said it, because I didn't know what else to call him. My fella. My sweetheart. My heart, period.

Man like that, who'd kill himself for the whole world, man with a heart that big, soul that pure? He deserves someone willing to die for him.

And me, I've been dying for Steve Rogers since I met him. Over and over, every time he turned away from me. Don't you have anyone you'd die for?


End file.
